The Will To Serve
by shamenteen
Summary: future yaoi One who should have died for his master that fateful night has now reappeared with no memory of how he did so. Now Legato must uncover the secret of his servival. Afteranime time. VxM, future KxL, perhaps WxM. DEAD


Warnings: Contains after anime spoilers, and everything that is associated with the Trigun series (e.g. cursing, morbid-ness, death, mind controlling, ect…), as well as shonen-ai that may evolve into yaoi (boyxboy love).

Author's Note: I have not watched the anime in a while and I do not know Legato's past well, so I may decide to change it to fit the story like some others have. This is set perhaps a few months after the end of the anime, where Vash carrying his unconscious brother over his shoulder, walks back into the town where Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe are and the four of them began a life together, a bit awkward one but a happy one.

As well, I may decide to make other character's miraculously survive their "deaths" as well. coughWolfwoodcough

Pairings-- 

Current Vash x Meryl

Future Knives x Legato,

Maybe Wolfwood x Milly (no promises)

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or any relation to it.

-x-0-x-

Chapter 1: To my master I must go.

Legato stood there in the middle of the desert wasteland, his once spotless pure white coat now soaked down the back with dark crimson was twisting in the wind. His hands were brought up in front of him, staring at his glove-covered palms with a pair of blank golden eyes. His face, paler then normal with dark streaks going down one side, was wiped clean of all feelings as his lips pressed together into a thin line. It was wrong.

The wind picked up harshly, wiping his dirty and blood soaked blue hair into his face. Against the supposedly fatal wound on his forehead, this now seemed to have become nothing more then a deep gash that dried over and filled partly with sand. His brought one hand up and pressed his fingers against the wound, closing his eyes as plain shot threw him. It was all wrong.

His mind pushed away the pain as he remembered the last moments of consciousness. He was standing on a cliff with Vash the Stampede, talking about something. What was it? Oh yes, how he had killed so many even if not with his own hands. It wasn't very hard to understand. It was foolish of Vash to think other wise in such a self-optimistic point of view. Pushing away the facts to lessen the guilt of knowing that they are dead because of you. Humans died, why didn't he comprehend that?

He ignored those thoughts to try and remember how he got to his current location. He had told Vash to kill him, in exchange the lives of the townspeople and of the two insurance girls would be spared. Vash had struggled and said something how it wasn't right to kill, so he had the townspeople go in for a attack and his plan seemed to work, if you ignored the constant hesitation and lectures from Vash before he died. That's right, he did die…

So how was, after having a gun pressed to his forehead, a trigger pulled, and a built flying into his head, killing him instantly so he fell lifelessly to the ground with some amount of blood around him, that he now stood here in this barren outstretch of the planet, no bulit in the middle of his mind, and as much alive as he ever was? It didn't make since.

How long has it been as well since his plan was taken out? Did his master's plan succeed? It must have if he remembered right since Vash pulled the trigger of his own free will. Has it been long enough that Vash the Stampede seeked out his master? His master…

Legato's thoughts halted at that. Somehow he was alive, and in good enough condition to move freely, how so he would question later, for now he needed to find his master. Would he be pleased he was alive? What if he became furious at him for surviving and returning to bother him? He did not want to anger his master and become an inconvenience.

"No matter. I live only to serve my master, if he wishes to kill me upon my return I will hold no grudge and except my fate." Legato resisted the urge to flinch at his voice, his dry throat making it sound gritty and wheezed. His golden eyes opened as he turned to the right, his sixth sent telling him that was the closes town. Even after he "died" he still seemed to have the powers he was born with. Maybe his master will accept him back since he may be useful…

-x-0-x-

He had walked the rest of the day and threw the night, and by early morning after the sun had been in the sky for more no then 2 hours, he walked into the small peaceful town that was already bustling with people. Easily he used his control to make the people around him regard him as normal, ignoring him as the rushed about sleepily. He randomly chose one man as he stumbled by, brushing against his mind to learn the current date and anything he might have missed that was reported involving Vash the Stampede.

He walked down the street to a bar that was mostly empty, rolling the new information around in his mind as he took a seat at a table in the back. It seemed he had been "dead" for a few months, almost a year, and not too much has changed in his absence.

A old lady, plump and weary with dry brown hair pulled into a messy bun with matching eyes and a wrinkled face, a false smile pasted on it, walked over to his table. "Good morning, may I get you anything?" She sounded older then she was, obviously tired, perhaps in her thirties.

He let a smile cross his face, it seemed his habit of observing and concluding information on his surroundings has not died, or perhaps it did and simply just appeared again like he seemed to have. He opened his mouth and his voice came out evenly, if not a bit horsed, "I would like a glass of water and a slice of cheesecake, and perhaps a glass of scotch as well." Maybe the scotch would get rid of the pounding inside his head that was with him since yesterday.

She left quickly to retrieve the items, leaving him to his thoughts. He finally let himself take in his appearance. Blood coated his head and back, dust and sand seemed to have clung to his body in every space available, some places that weren't as well, his coat was tattered and torn around the edges in places, his black turtleneck was now clinging him and not due to the fact of how tight it originally was, brown pants now were darker and one pant leg seemed to have a slight tear near the bottom but other wise just unbelievably dirty, his gloves and shoes seemed to be in good condition as well.

His cheesecake and drinks were set down in front of him before the women quickly scurried off to go see another customer. He first grabbed the glass of water and drank it down, curering his dry throat and quenching his thirst somewhat. He then picked up his fork and went to eating his cheesecake. He would need to take a shower and fix his wardrobe, perhaps cover the gash on his forehead. He could not let his master see him like this.

-x-0-x-

Legato had gotten a room on the outskirts of the town he was in to refresh. He had given his coat to the owner of the building to fix, whose wife was the one who was actually fixing his coat, and would retrieve it this afternoon. For now he needed a shower. Setting the borrowed clothes on top of the sink, he proceeded to peel off his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor in dirty heaps. Stepping into the shower he let the hot water assault the skin of his chest, pressing his lips together tightly as a burning sensation shot over it to his brain.

He glanced down and saw a gash that he didn't notice before, crossing his chest from upper left to lower right towards his hip it seemed. Why didn't he notice it before? It wasn't that big or deep, maybe a few inches long, but it still hurt. He pressed his left hand against the new-found wound and gave a soft hiss, using his other arm to press against the wall to hold him up.

He surveyed the rest of his body and found another cut across the side of his upper left leg on the outside, perhaps 2 inches long. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, where did these cuts come from? He noticed right above his left hip as well seemed to be the remains of an injury, but was mostly gone. That one looked more like a stab wound then a gash. He let his fingers trace the wound as he tried to remember what happened, but only succeeding in getting a headache and a new wave of exhaustion.

He gave a deep sigh and stood up straight, grabbing a small rag and proceeding to wash off the dirt and blood, clenching his jaw when washing the cuts. H paused when washing his face, letting his fingers brush against the gash on his forehead as his mind once again tried to think of how he survived. He shook his head and finished cleaning it off, dropping the rag and took on the task of washing his hair. Afterwards he merely stood there and let the warm water sooth his sore body, closing his eyes and relaxing.

A few minutes later he got out and dressed in a pair of dark brown pants and a white button up shirt. Taking his original clothes, he left the room and went to the room where the Manager's wife was at with his coat to give her his other clothes. Afterwards he returned to his room and sat at the chair for the small table next to the window. His gaze fell to the townspeople outside as his mind began to wonder again, a habit which was becoming quiet annoying.

Exhaustion seemed to finally catch up to him however, as his eyes began to close as he crossed his left leg over his right, crossing his arms over his chest as well as he let his chin fall. Within minutes he fell into a light sleep, mind still wondering about his current situation.

-TBC-


End file.
